


That Which Is My Own

by machka



Category: Real Person Fiction, Tulsa Gangstas
Genre: Fluff, Other, Puppy Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machka/pseuds/machka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may not know specifics, but he knows what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Is My Own

**Author's Note:**

> 'Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love!' ~ Hamilton Wright Mabie
> 
> A love story, pure and simple. Written for day 22 of the [Tulsa Gangstas](http://community.livejournal.com/tulsa_gangstas) 2009 Advent calendar.
> 
> Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. The events described therein are not intended to represent actual events. No libel or defamation is intended in posting said fictitious work.
> 
> In other words, it's not real, because I made it all up.

The woman's eyes swept over him yet again, for the umpteenth time since he'd crossed the threshold of her office, lingering yet again on his haircut, his piercings, his mismatched tattoos... And once again, the vaguest hint of distaste and doubt crossed her features, and he could feel himself bristling.

"We should discuss the matter of the down payment," she began, and he cut her off with an abrupt gesture.

"I'm paying cash. Outright. In full." There was that fucking doubt again, crawling across her face, and he dug into his pocket, drawing out a thick wad of bills that he slapped on her desk with a thump. "I don't want to owe nobody nothing," he continued in short, clipped tones, his lip curling into the faintest snarl as her eyebrows popped up in surprise. "When I buy something, I want it to be _mine_ , free and clear."

"Indeed." She kept her voice level, which was admirable, but not the least bit endearing. "All right then, registration. As stated, we only offer limited..."

"Doesn't matter," he broke in on her again, ignoring the flash of annoyance in her eyes. "I've done my research, I've met your conditions..." He shifted in his chair, leaning forward and staring her in the eye as he drew the paper in front of her towards him. "Have you changed your mind about selling to me?"

"No, not at all, Mr. Tiemann," she countered smoothly, handing him a pen. "Just want to be certain there are no loose ends, no misunderstandings, no questions or concerns before we continue..."

"There aren't, believe me," he murmured, sliding the freshly-inked contract back across the desk, meeting her eyes again. "I want to make my pick."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

"Is this a Christmas present, or..."

Her awkward attempts at small talk were setting his nerves on edge, and Neal had to force his hands to stay loose and open at his sides.

"Nope, birthday," he replied, shrugging almost negligently, and immediately fell silent.

"Have you decided on a color yet?"

Neal gave his head a slight shake. "No, hadn't really thought about it, honestly..."

She continued beside him without comment, toward the closed doorway at the end of the hall, but he could almost feel her disbelieving gaze sliding down the side of his face _yet again_...

"...Just want the right one for me," he allowed quietly, missing the way her suspicion melted into sudden softness.

"We have several to chose from, as you will see..." she murmured warmly, swinging the door inward with a soft squeaking of the hinges.

To a one, eight little heads popped curiously up over the edge of their box. As a unit, eight fat, ungainly puppies spilled out, tumbling onto the floor and towards the pair, while their mother stretched slowly and elaborately, padding over to greet them politely.

The grin that transfigured his face was most certainly echoed by the woman beside him, but she was the furthest thing from his mind as he crouched down to meet the puppy onslaught.

They were everywhere at once, clambering into his lap, climbing his arms, jumping at his back; whining and yapping softly, their little voices raised for attention, ears flapping as they tossed their heads, nosing at his hands and licking eagerly at his jaw...nearly all the colors of the canine rainbow; black, blue, silver, fawn and white...

...But there was one, black patches spotted on white, sitting a little off to the side; a little hesitant, a little shyer...his tail sweeping slowly over the floor, head cocked curiously to the side, the brilliant sapphire of puppy eyes that had not yet begun to turn trained on the man before him...

Smiling gently, Neal extricated the squirming fawn female from his lap, extending a coaxing hand to this harlequin at his side, luring him nearer, the only pup in this litter as colorful and out-of-place as himself...

A small, wet tongue swept over his fingers, a well-formed head laid to rest on his knee, bright blue eyes gazing up trustingly, locked with his own...

...How do you describe the moment when you first fell in love?

"This one," he breathed.

"Of course," the woman replied, stooping to buckle a red collar around the puppy's neck. "They're scheduled for vet checks and their first vaccinations and dewormings in two weeks, and he should be ready to go with you after that..."

Her voice faded, joining the background buzz of the noise surrounding him, and he lost himself in those shining blue eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Sixx," he whispered, ruffling the puppy's ears gently, and smiled tenderly as the black and white tail thumped the floor.

 _Finally...something I can call my own._   



End file.
